Page 54 of Flanders' Folly
She nodded and closed her eyes again, concentrating harder this time. That blackness returned to swallow her, but this time, it seemed as if something lurked just inside. Waiting for her.
"Still nothing," she said, though her voice wavered slightly. "Little more than the darkness."
"Ye see? An improvement already. Keep on.”
Breathing deep, she reached out, imagined pushing past the darkness, straining to see what lay beyond. When she couldn’t penetrate it, she allowed her thoughts to turn and go where they would. In mere seconds, impressions came flooding—men on horseback, hundreds of them, thundering across the landscape. Some wore Stephan's colors, others bore unfamiliar standards. And among them...
She gasped and pulled her hands from Flanders’. Her body began to quake.
"What is it?" Flanders asked, alarmed. "What did ye see?"
"Men," she whispered. "So many men. Riding on Todlaw. Men ye’re not expecting." She bit her lip, unwilling to continue. A tear escaped and traced a path down her cheek.
"There's more. Don’t be afraid. Tell me."
She shook her head, but he took her chin in hand and gently forced her to meet his gaze.
"Tell me, Brigid. Whatever it is, it’s better to know so we can prepare."
"A man is coming," she finally said, her voice breaking. "To take me away."
Flanders' face darkened with fury. "Who?"
"I don't know."
Anger brought all the lines back to his face. His jaw jumped while he smoothed a wayward strand of hair away from her cheek. “Worry not, love. I will simply kill any man who tries." When he noted the alarm on her face, his features softened again. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Listen to me. The vision ye had before—about yer death—it was wrong, wasn't it? It was Bella who died, not ye."
"Aye, but?—"
"Then there's no reason why this vision can't be wrong too," he insisted. "And even if it's not, I won't let anyone take ye from me. Not Stephan, not Atholl, not the devil himself." He laughed. “It wasn’t the devil ye saw, surely.”
She wished she could say it wasn’t. The truth was, she didn’t know. But she smiled anyway. “Ye can't fight the whole world, Flanders."
"Of a certainty, I can." He lifted her up and onto his lap and tightened his powerful arms around her. "I am like the curtain wall of Todlaw. No one gets past me."
Despite everything, she laughed. "Ye're a stubborn mule, Flanders Leesborn."
"Aye.” He kissed her lips then, but all that he promised in that kiss were things beyond their control. There might well be no future for them, and she dared not hope otherwise.
They moved to the bed where he curled up behind her on top of the blankets, both of them unwilling to spend the night apart when it might be their last. He held her so tightly it was almost painful, as if he could keep her safe through sheer force.
"Sleep," she whispered, stroking his arm. "We are together. And tonight, it is enough."
Sleep claimed him within minutes and his arms gradually loosened their desperate grip, enough so that she could turn to see his face. She memorized every line that had been carved by worry, by laughter, and by petulance. He was determined, even in his dreams.
She traced a finger lightly along his jaw, careful not to wake him. "If ye mean to sacrifice yerself for me," she whispered, "I will lock ye in this chamber come mornin’."
27
ITS ALL ABOUT THE BANNER
* * *
The sound of distant horns finally penetrated Brigid’s dreams and she woke. The panel covering a narrow window had been removed. The sky outside was only beginning to lighten.
Flanders was already up, buckling on his sword belt, his face grim in the light of a single candle.
"What is it?"
